Odds and Ends
by lynne-monstr
Summary: A collection of unrelated fic snippets. #1: Prussia/Austria (pretending to be married) #2: Prussia/Switzerland (cross-dressing) #3: Germany/Austria (drunk!fic). #4 Prussia/Austria (dubcon asphyxiation)
1. PruAus - pretending to be married

This where I'll be keeping my collection of unrelated drabbles and snippets of fic. If I ever decide to expand any of them, I'll post the whole thing as a separate story.

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#1: for a trope!fic meme on tumblr. The prompt was _Prussia/Austria - pretending to be married_.

A/N - if anyone was wondering, the (very thin) plot device for this is that one of Austria's super-secret-spy teams were detained, but someone needed to show up at [insert big gala event here] using their cover as husbands. Very coincidentally, said spies have a passing resemblance to Prussia and Austria...

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"Just so we're clear, I'm not gonna be the fucking wife here!"

Austria just laughed and Prussia wanted to punch him in the teeth.

But his nails had just been polished, buffed and filed within an inch of their life, and it wouldn't do to split his knuckles open just to make a point. So he settled for mercilessly squeezing their joined hands until the laughter turned brittle and Austria's jaw clenched in a poor attempt to mask the pain. It made Prussia feel a bit better about this whole stupid sham.

"Besides," Austria's voice was strained, "Neither of us is the wife, you idiot. We're both men." Violet eyes ran up and down Prussia's suit-clad frame. "At least, I know _I _am."

Prussia gave a last vindictive squeeze, relishing the wince his "husband" wasn't quick enough to hide. "Fine," he spit out. "But you owe me big for this. You and your leaders."

All he got was a nod, and a stiff, "Yes, I'm aware."

They stared unblinking at each other until Austria shifted and looked away. Reaching into his pocket, he procured a small black box covered in velvet, and snapped it open in silence. Prussia knew what was coming, but couldn't stop his eyes from snapping to the glint of gold that flashed as it caught the light. It was an exact match to the thin band already on Austria's own elegant hand.

"If you will," Austria requested, his voice unexpectedly solemn as he looked up at Prussia. His face was a mask of neutrality and despite himself, Prussia could feel his heart speed up uncomfortably in the silence, could feel each beat as it pounded against his chest.

He shook the thought away and extended his hand.

It wasn't until the ring was on his finger that he realized he'd been holding his breath. With a giant whoosh he released it and let out an ear-splitting cackle, moving to sling an arm around Austria's shoulders and walk them both towards the double doors leading to the banquet hall. A split second later he changed his mind and stopped short, pivoting on one foot until they were face to face.

Then he leaned in and kissed Austria full on the mouth.

The kiss was as full and deep as it was short, and Prussia smirked as he pulled away. "There, now it's official. Let's do this stupid thing."


	2. PrussiaSwitzerland - crossdressing

#2 Prussia/Switzerland. Another trope!fic from tumblr. Prompt: _Prussia/Switzerland - crossdressing._

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"You have slim hips!"

"You're short!"

Prussia glared into eyes burning bright with fury.

"What did you just call me?" The response was pitched low and spoken slowly, as if with each word Switzerland was preparing for war.

Both hands coming to rest on his hips (which weren't fucking _slim_. They were defined and muscular and manly, thank you very much), Prussia curled his lip. "You heard me." He tilted his head down, purposely exaggerating the motion, using his own height as a weapon.

It didn't go unnoticed. Switzerland took a step forward until their chests were practically touching, then shoved at Prussia with both hands.

But Prussia knew the other nation's temper well enough not to be taken by surprise, already leaning forward to firm up his stance, hands coming together and shooting upwards and outwards to deflect the push. He let his momentum carry him forward until the two of them slammed together. In the same motion, Prussia wrapped both arms around Switzerland, pinning his hands to his sides in the process.

He looked into green eyes radiating all kinds of retribution, and smiled. "Austria was nice enough to send us such a thoughtful 've known him longer, so that means you should wear the lingerie."

"I look ridiculous in a thong."

"With that ass?" Prussia raised an eyebrow. "Trust me, you'll look great!"

Careful to not loosen his hold, Prussia glanced to the side, looking at the box lying open on the bed, its contents strewn across the duvet. A black lace thong, matching garters, and silky stockings contrasted with the simple white sheets Switzerland preferred. A pair of simple fingerless gloves lay atop the ensemble, and a riding crop peeked out from under the matching black wrapping paper. Prussia took a moment to think that it was an uncharacteristically generous gift before looking back at Switzerland.

Switzerland must have followed his gaze, because he stopped struggling, a devious grin stretching across his face. "It's a set," he said simply. "All or nothing."

Prussia had been ready to argue, his mind already planning out exactly how to best utilize the crop, but his mouth abruptly snapped shut at the visions filling his mind. Switzerland's muscular legs encased by translucent silk; the thin strap tracing a line from thigh to hip; fingers peeking out from lace gloves idly tracing the leather of the crop.

He licked his lips and agreed.


	3. GermanyAustria - drunk

#3 Germany/Austria. tumblr trope!fic. Prompt: Germany/Austria - drunk!fic with schnapps.

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Prussia had once told him a long time ago, _Stick to beer, West, because those sissy sweet drinks will fuck your shit up_. At the time, Germany had laughed it off, mentally filing the advice away with other such tidbits, such as, _Never trust an Austrian_ and _It's not fighting dirty if you win_.

But as Austria refilled his tiny little glass for the sixth - no, eighth - no - As Austria refilled his glass _again_, Germany had to admit that maybe his older brother was correct in this instance. But just this once, he was sure. Otherwise, he might have to seriously reconsider the bit about _Birds make the best attack squad._

The drink tasted foul at first, but after the first couple glasses had become progressively sweeter until he couldn't remember why he'd disliked it at all. And, too late, that's when he remembered Prussia's words.

He stuck out a finger at Austria. Somehow, he was sure, it was all the other nation's fault. "It's all your fault," he announced. The room spun around his finger and he was dizzy, and then there was something soft and warm resting against his head.

He blinked and the haze parted, and he realized his error. The soft and warm thing was Austria. His lap, to be precise. And Germany was laying in it. He should feel embarrassed, he knew, but the schnapps had thrown a blanket over his mind, leaving it as soft and fuzzy as the world around him, so instead he smiled and stayed put, shifting on Austria's overly plush sitting room couch to lay on his back and look up at his host.

"You're tall," he observed. How had he never realized how tall Austria was? He mentally filed the thought as something to investigate at a later date.

"You're drunk," was the response, but Austria was smiling down at him so Germany was pretty sure this wasn't one of his temper tantrums.

"So are you," he replied. He had no idea if it was true or not, but he'd seen Prussia win arguments using those same words, and try as he might, couldn't remember why he used to think that was a bad strategy.

Austria shook his head. "So childish," he muttered.

Germany shot straight up and clutched at Austria's shoulders. "Yes, that's the reason!"

They both laughed and laughed and before Germany had time to realize he was right about Austria being drunk too, they were kissing. Austria tasted like apricot and it was nice, so after they pulled away, Germany plucked his glass from the table, took a sip, and did it again.


	4. PruAus - dubcon asphyxiation

**Title**: Flicker and Fade  
**Pairings: **Prussia/Austria + England**  
Warnings for:** unknown consent (dubcon), asphyxiation, humiliation, voyeurism  
**Summary**: _"Austria on his knees was one of Prussia's favorite things."_ Set during The Seven Years' War.

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"You're doing it wrong. Harder." The mocking tones of England's voice rang out from across the room.

"Can't you see I'm a little—" Prussia grunted as an elbow from Austria caught him in the stomach, and he turned away to face the other source of his annoyance. "I didn't say you could fight back, did I?" His hands around Austria's neck tightened, tendons straining beneath his fingers.

"Don't blame me for your ineptitude at this." Austria's voice was no more than a hoarse croak.

How that aristocratic fuck managed to speak was a mystery, and one Prussia wasn't interested in solving. His hands squeezed mercilessly and he smiled at the strangled noises that were his only response.

"Finally. That's more like it." England again, that arrogant fuck. He'd be next if he didn't watch his mouth.

"Shut up," Prussia responded, not making the same mistake of looking over at him again. He knew what he'd find in any case: his ally sprawled over the finest furniture of Austrian craftsmanship, the blood and grime of his tattered uniform staining the precious upholstery. A leer on his face and a hand on his cock as he watched them.

Fucking beautiful is what it was, but not nearly as gorgeous as the sight below him. Austria on his knees was one of Prussia's favorite things.

Austria's eyes were wide, glinting bright in the reflection of the room's many chandeliers. His mouth gaped open as he fought for the air Prussia denied him, even as his hips jerked uselessly in arousal he no longer tried to hide. Prussia had almost bound his hands but it was just so much damn fun to watch him fight. Even better to watch him lose.

Prussia nudged his shin against the bulge in Austria's pants, delighting in the way the usually refined nation practically rutted against him before getting control of himself. "Liked that did you," he mocked.

Austria glared hatefully back at him.

Prussia smirked, enjoying the sight and the way his own arousal simmered just under the surface. "Get yourself off. Before you faint or not at all."

For a moment, Austria didn't move, and Prussia inwardly cursed him, his stupid empire, and his prissy fucking self-control. He nudged at the bulge again and felt the thrill of victory in the tight vibration of a trapped moan under his hands, even as Austria began to move against him, rutting against Prussia's filthy uniform pants.

Prussia laughed, and heard England do the same.

If Austria noticed, he gave no indication. His eyes were glazed, body trembling as his thrusts got quicker and shorter. He'd be panting, Prussia knew, short and shallow gasps of air if he'd been able to.

He pressed his thumbs sharply into the vulnerable flesh of Austria's neck just as the other nation jerked once and shuddered like a wire pulled taut, slumping into Prussia's body until he was held up solely by the hands clamped around his neck.

Prussia let him fall to the floor, hand absently smoothing down an errant strand of sweaty black hair. Disgusted with himself and hoping his companion hadn't seen, he plucked the glasses from the unconscious nation's face, pocketed them, and strode jauntily towards the couch.


End file.
